


Dread It, Run From It

by The_Rose_That_Blooms



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark Romance, Death, F/M, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-06-27 13:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19791874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Rose_That_Blooms/pseuds/The_Rose_That_Blooms
Summary: "Lovely." The bastard turned to you, glacier eyes seemingly glowing in the lamplight. "I want more."He licked his lips, tilting his head like a curious cat. He was dreadful and you hated him even more.





	1. Dread

**Author's Note:**

> R A M S A Y is his own warning! Beware for the Bolton's blades are sharp and they kill.

**¹**

"I know you're afraid," Ramsay sang with glee, rapping his knuckles against the rickety, wooden door of the secluded place you were hiding, "but you can't stay in there forever, now, can you? You'll _starve_ and we can't have that, can we?"

As much as you wished to be stubborn and remain in isolation, you knew the dreadful bastard would do anything to drag you away from your hiding place by any means necessary—torture or starvation, both could break you and there really was nothing you can do.

Slowly, like a slug on a sunny day, you pushed open the doors of the closet. It creaked as you did and the sound sent chills down your spine. 

Ramsay's smirking face invaded your sight. "Why, hello there. Mind joining me now? I would like to take you on a tour around the castle—maybe let you meet the other servants...or your perhaps the 'ironborn' if you'll behave."

At the mention of the 'ironborn', your eyes brightened up noticeably. It was no secret you were loyal to Theon Greyjoy—you served him for years! The idea of seeing the captured male wasn't pleasant but you wanted to see if he was alright...

With a mute nod of your head, Ramsay smiled widely, canines showing as he offered his hand for you to take. 

"Do you p-promise?" you whispered, knowing whatever he had in store for you was inescapable but still...a girl can hope.

"I do." 

He wasn't convincing. Not with a smile like that. You knew he could trick you easily but you also knew that the only way to escape is to outwit him in the middle of his scheme. Swallowing your fear, you braced yourself for the worst.

When you took his outstretched hand, you marvelled at how soft his skin was. It wasn't calloused like what you expected. Did flaying men improve the texture of his skin? Or did he soak his hands into the blood of his enemies and absorbed its nutrients? The thought made you sick.

"You don't talk much, do you?" Ramsay assumed, pulling you close to him, your skirt making a swooshing in the air because of his movements. Although you wanted to cower and hide under his cool gaze, you understood what he needed in someone to avoid killing them: confidence.

Unfortunately, you didn't have that. Skilled as you were in writing and reading, you lacked confidence in all aspects. It was a miracle as to how you're still upright upon holding Ramsay's hand—the hand that held a knife too many times; the hand that flayed Bolton's enemies; the hand that touched women as they fell apart from the excruciating pain and pleasure; the hand that should not be touching yours.

You sharply withdrew, clutching your chest in fright. Body language indicated you were wary but the look on your eyes that met his was full of fire. "Show me to him...please."

At least you're polite. It's good quality to have, right? There's not a lot of polite people ever since you got captured. 

The bastard seemed delighted by your response since he replied with, "Of course!" He then proceeded to lead you to your destination, acting like a giddy child holding your wrist tightly as if you'll escape any minute. His uncut nails dug unto your flesh making you wince. 

"I never did catch your name, though," Ramsay mused, suddenly thoughtful, "Lord Theon must have muttered it once or twice but I was to preoccupied to pay attention. I want to hear it from yourself."

"I'm—"

"I've changed my mind!" It bothered you how quickly his mood changes. Even his mind was unpredictable. The clacking of your boots against the floor echoed loudly as he quickened his steps. "You won't be keeping your name anyway. Theon has finally submitted. You, on the other hand, don't need to be beaten into submission. I doubt you could take on pain like an old friend."

Was he really underestimating you? You felt pain, too. Your previous masters weren't so kind. Luckily, the Starks found you and took you in. With the gods' help, you were new again. 

This wasn't the gods' will. None if it was. This was just misfortune. Theon betrayed the Starks; you tried to talk some sense into him. He wouldn't listen to you. He was betrayed by his own men and you? Well, you followed him as he got kidnapped by the Boltons. 

"My name is—"

"You're Rose now," he suddenly declared just as you reached a wooden door at the end of the hallway. Putrid smell wafted from the inside and into your nose. You gagged. 

"What's with that reaction? I'd have thought you should be pleased." Ramsay finally let go of your wrist, placing his hand on the knob. "Rose is a name for a highborn. You, little lady, aren't a highborn so you should at least be grateful."

Any protest never left your mouth as he turned the knob and pushed the door open revealing a broken and battered Theon Greyjoy, strapped to a wooden 'x', half-naked and eyes closed though not for long. 

The second you let out an audible gasp, Theon's eyes snapped open. Instead of shock, he looked regretful but he didn't say a thing.

Sauntering in without a second thought, Ramsay grinned from ear to ear. "What a beautiful reunion! I'm sure you're quite pleased, Rose?"

Silence met his inquiry. He frowned. 

"It seems like Rose isn't delighted...how dreadful indeed" Ramsay picked up a knife coated with blood, tracing the sharp edge with his finger, drawing red droplets of blood that dripped down the floor. "What do you say, Reek? Are you happy to see your friend?"

"Sh-She's not...m-my friend, my lo-lord." Theon's voice was hoarse yet it wasn't due to disuse. You suspected it was because of screaming—it was a miracle as to why hus vocal chords hadn't ruptured yet. 

"And why is that, Reek?"

"Because she-she's Theon Greyjoy's f-f-friend...I'm not Theon... I'm Reek, my lord. I'm Reek. I'm Reek..."

It hurt to see him so submissive, so lost. This wasn't the Theon you knew. This was a whole new different person. You had to bring back Theon. You had to. It was your task as a servant to see to Theon's comfort. He certainly was uncomfortable.

Despite the determination inside you, you didn't realize you were biting your lip until it bled. 

A certain someone noticed it and he was never going to let you live it down.  
"I love that look, Rose. Do it again." 

You sure as hell weren't going to give him the satisfaction. Relaxing your muscles was difficult. You did it anyway. Inhaling and exhaling helped. 

Perhaps noticing your steely determination, Ramsay's expression turned sour. "You're being very disobedient, Rose... You don't want to know what I've done to disobedient servants...."

You refused to give him what he wants. If he thought you couldn't handle pain then he was mistaken. You stared ahead—not at Ramsay, not at Theon and not at anything in the vicinity.

You really thought Ramsay was losing this game until a whimper brought you back to reality. It came from the man in the cross—Theon!

Tracing the blade against his open wounds, it was clear it was Ramsay who was winning. Oh, how he loved seeing the discomfort on your face. He wanted more. He wanted you to scream, curse, spit at him and cry until you'll run out of tears. 

Theon was your breaking point for now. 

He cautiously stabbed Theon's sternum, burying the blade halfway. Theon let out a voiceless scream, face contorted with anguish.

You cried out in surprise and fear, rooted to your spot. Your heart sensed the danger emitted from Ramsay's sadistic nature as it throbbed, making it seem like a new target. 

"Scream."

Theon didn't. Ramsay pushed the blade further, earning a loud groan from the victim. 

You shook your head and demanded, "Let him go! Stop it! Please!" Your hands gripped your skirt tightly, knuckles turning white. "Theon!"

"Scream," was Ramsay's response. He burrowed the blade an inch. Theon threw his head back, gritting his teeth. He didn't scream.

"Don't—"

"Scream!" Another push; Theon cried out but didn't scream.

Running and tackling the bastard wasn't a good choice to have but you went and ran anyway—only to stop in your tracks as a woman appeared from the shadows, aiming an arrow straight at your heart; a new target indeed. You stopped, stunned. 

"Scream!" When it reached the place where the blade met the hilt, Theon finally screamed. You're afraid the sound would haunt you forever. 

However, Ramsay didn't cease. That is when you realized he wanted **you** scream. You're only witnessing Theon getting tortured because you were too dumb to notice Ransay wanted you to be the one screaming.

Before he could push the hilt again, you pleaded: "No! Please! You can't do this! Don't hurt him!—"

Ransay smirked, trailing his nimble fingers over the wound, pressing down with his thumb—

"RAMSAY, STOP! DON'T HURT HIM ANYMORE! I'M BEGGING YOU!" Theon did not deserve this even if he did take over Winterfell. He didn't kill anyone! He just wanted to please his real family!

"Lovely." The bastard turned to you, glacier eyes seemingly glowing in the lamplight. "I want more."

He licked his lips, tilting his head like a curious cat. He was dreadful and you hated him even more.

"Give me more, Rose. Give me more of your screams."

You didn't know when she fired. You were too focused on the crazy look he harbored that you totally forgot the woman with the arrow.

Said arrow struck your left shoulder. Pain erupted like wildfire. You fell to the ground, tumbling like a sack of potatoes before you remembered the arrow was still embedded into.your flesh—it didn't go through. Upon hitting the ground, the arrow shifted. 

You screamed, flooded with dread. You can't run. You can't hide. Theon shook his head slightly, closing his eyes sorrowfully. 

Ramsay's icy gaze watched your every move even as you lapsed into unconsciousness.


	2. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ransay is his own warning.

²

"I always wanted a pet." 

You should probably get used to waking up by his voice. It was the only thing you could hear that wasn't the screams of the people he tortured—Theon in particular. 

Your blood ran cold, remembering his whimpers and frightened screams. Ramsay didn't kill him, did he?

"Where is—"

"Alive." He seemed to be reading your mind. The bastard had that sickening smirk on his face again. He was seated on the edge of the bed you lay, hooded eyes gazing at you like some sort of meal. 

You exhaled; actually, you didn't realize you had been holding your breath. Maybe the lack of air was the reason your chest felt heavy. One intense look by Ramsay...maybe not. 

Not knowing what else to do, you turned your head to face the sheets. It was much better than looking at the sadistic man in front of you. 

"Look at me, Rose," he ordered softly. It was a ploy, you realized. He wanted you to let down your guard. That wasn't happening. From what you recalled, the last time you let out your guard, a woman shot you with an arrow. 

As if to check, you snatched a look at your shoulder, relieved that it was bandaged although poorly. Suddenly remembering his order, you hesitantly met his eyes. "What...What do you want?"

Contently humming, Ramsay stood, inching closer to the headboard. "I am going to ask you a question, my dear Rose, and I need you to answer truthfully."

You slowly nodded, somewhat unsure. There goes your idea of a peaceful morning. You're delusional if you thought you could ever have another peaceful morning after yesterday.

He reached out, running his hand through your matted hair, untangling the knots painfully. Your head sank into the pillow, fearful of his gentle action. He chuckled. "How are you?"

You opened your mouth to speak, managing only a croak, before trying again. "I'm...well."

"Good to hear then." He took your chin with his fingers, forcing you to tilt your head. His mouth parted, pupils dilating. "Are you lying to me, Rose?"

You shook your head. "No."

"No, _my lord_."

"N-No, m-my lord." You gulped, eyes burning. It scared you that if you looked away, he'd do something horrible. 

"Next," he began, thumb pressing against your lower lip, "do you love Reek?"

You certainly loved Theon. You knew he didn't feel the same. Still, the question shocked you. This was another form of torture. How should you answer? Ramsay loathed liars so he shall expect the truth. If you told the truth, what will become of you?

Yet his question talked about another man. Theon isn't Reek. You loved Theon; you didn't love Reek. So, you told him just that.

Ramsay's lips curled up to a smile. "Very good." He pried open your lips that was pressed into a thin line, pushing his thumb in. It tasted salty, slightly metallic. Your eyes widened and you began to thrash—

"Quit moving, Rose," he warned, laying a hand on the bandaged wound you had. You held your breath then stilled a few seconds later.

"Do you love me?" 

If you could tell him to fuck off, you would. He wouldn't want that. He'll kill you for saying such vulgar words. With how quickly his mood changes, one wrong word would have you be flayed, too. If you died, Theon would have no one. 

How should you answer this time?

Distressed, you looked at the door, hoping for another miracle. There was none. You were out of options. How should you reply? 

"I..." The answer you made was a little incoherent due to the thumb in your mouth. Said finger rubbed circles on your tongue, the motion meant to be comforting. It did nothing to your thudding heart. "I do-don't love you, my lord."

He needed the truth? Well, you gave it to him.

Instead of getting angry, he looked complacent. "Excellent."

Not a second later, he pulled away his thumb and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you roughly, inserting his tongue in your mouth. You gasped—that was your first kiss! 

Cradling your face with his palm, he forced himself unto you, running his tongue along your bottom lip and then bit. You winced, tasting blood. 

Before you could think of slapping the bastard, he pulled away with a grin, blood smeared on his lips. "You did well, Rose. I don't want a liar for a pet. I don't want anyone submitting so easily." He noticed the look of hope in your eyes and saw it fit to extinguish the fire out. "Oh, I'll make you submit, don't worry. I just want a challenge. A challenge for the dreadful. And you.should win against me...you should keep me entertained. If not... " 

He gestured to your shoulder. "You'll get much more than a minor wound to the shoulder. My Myranda is a jealous woman. Don't tell her I said you. You won't get anything out of it."

He used the thumb that was in your mouth to wipe off the blood from his lips. "You're my servant now, Rose. You're _mine_. If you ever think about betraying me, just imagine the things I could do to _you_ with Reek watching."

Winking, he turned his head to the set of clothing perched on your bedside table. "That'll be your clothes from now on. Catch you later, Rose."

You watched him as he turned his back on you, striding to the door in short, quick steps. With a hand on the knocker, he added, "I expect a response."

"H-Have a nice day, m-my lord," you stuttered out. 

Another kind smile graced Ramsay's features. He turned back and left, the door wide open.

You'd be foolish to run away. Winterfell belonged to the Boltons now. You had no allies, you had no friends. You're a stranger in a not-so-stranger lands. If you ran, you'd die in the snow. If you ran, you can't come back and save Thein from the bastard's clutches. You have to endure his psychological torture and wish you didn't bore him as much.

The kiss was a good thing. 

_'Endure it,'_ you told yourself, _'this is only the beginning.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 8 more to come.


	3. Doll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Related to S4E2 of GOT.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R A M S A Y is his own WARNING.

³

As a child, Ramsay had been told dolls were for girls.

He didn't heed that advice. He loved dolls. He loved toying with them. He remembered severing a dolls head using his father's knife. Dolls were his best friend. They kept him company. It was nice—having someone to stop him.from becoming crazy.

But who was he kidding? He's always been mad. 

He was grateful for the appearance of his childhood friend, Myranda. Despite his imperfection, she stuck by him. So, he's giving her a favour—a gift. 

A hunting game. With another girl named Tansy. 

He will make this game worth it for her. She deserved a reward and he's giving it to her. Besides, Tansy's behaviour has become a bit of a problem.

On the way to the forest after grabbing a bow and quiver of arrows, he passed by you, hunched over and scrubbing the blood off the walls. 

You looked up, sensing a dreadful presence and then saw him wearing a self-satisfied smirk. He looked ahead, not giving you a second glance. His loyal hounds followed, guarding him from any threat coming from every direction. One of these days, Ramsay was going to feed you to the dogs... 

Speaking of Ramsay; the bastard didn't acknowledge your presence. Should you be comforted or scared? Damn him for making you feel conflicted over very little things!

Ramsay _did_ notice you, of course. He knew you were situated to clean that particular spot because you hated blood. As much as he wanted you to lick the blood off the wall with your tongue, he restrained himself. Today was for Myranda. He wasn't going to entertain another woman and risk another feud. 

He loved _dolls_. It'll be very boring to have one doll alone.

Suspicious as you were, you concluded to ignore him, too. It was a good thing...or a bad thing. If he ignored you, did it mean you were boring and would be disposed of very soon?

The thought sent chills throughout your body. You scrubbed the walls harder only to stop once more as soon as you caught sight of Theon stumbling after Ramsay, shaking. 

"Theon!" you half-whispered, half-shouted to catch his attention. It would be unwise to call him his title for the Boltons are in command. Like what you told yourself, one wrong move could have you flayed.

Theon tensed, pausing in his tracks but didn't turn. He uttered, "Not Th-Theon! Reek!"

Ramsay had such a horrible effect on him. He was dependent now. So unlike the Theon brimming with confidence as he stood beside the Stark children, flirting with women, sparring with soldiers, and being himself. You reminded yourself he was Reek until you both could escape. 

Hopeless, you slumped down again to continue scrubbing. A nagging feeling itched the back of your head. You understood Ramsay was up to something upon seeing the satisfied look in his eyes. 

What if it involved hurting Theon again?

Overcome with steely resolve, you plopped the rag in the bucket of dirty water. The skirt Ramsay instructed you to wear was filthy and unwashed. You had no doubt it belonged to a previous servant in the palace who was either dead or banished. You didn't want to wear it but it was either go naked or go filthy.

You had too much dignity to go naked so you opted with the latter. 

Wiping your wet hands against the apron, you began your descent to the forest where Ramsay and company disappeared to. 

Luckily the guards weren't so keen in security. You slipped into the cover of trees before they could bat an eye. 

Looking around, you vaguely remembered playing hide and seek here with Bran and Arya although you were older than them by a few years. Nevertheless, one couldn't be too old for a game, right?

A woman's laughter echoed throughout the location, carried by the wind. A second later, a scream followed then there was rustling of the leaves form being stepped upon.

You didn't know when that happened but you were also running. Running to where? You had zero idea. All you wanted to do was find out the source. What if they started hunting Theon instead? 

You used to be very good at navigating this forest. Now, it seemed foreign to you. You assumed it was because the forest mirrored the ruler. The ruler was Roose Bolton, Ramsay's father, and he was dangerous. 

Naturally, the forest should be a threat, too. You were threatened but that didn't stop you from running. It wasn't your survival instincts kicking in to defend yourself but rather, it was your compassionate nature to help, to assist, to know and save those in need. 

After all, you are a servant.

You slowed down after a sound of the bowstring containing an arrow was fired, hitting the tree meters away from you. Your heart leapt in your throat... That tree could have been you.

Turning around couldn't prepare you for an inevitable crash; someone slammed into you and together, you two tumbled down into the shallow river. 

A pained whimper escaped this someoen's mouth. You groaned, head aching due to hitting it on a boulder. You're not so surreptitious now, aren't you?

"Please, please, help me! Help me! Please!" the girl begged, shaking you by the shoulders. Your dizziness increased. "You've got t-to... He's...He's going to k-k-kill me!"

Blinking to clear your vision, you managed to get a good look at her. In response, she looked at you, crying and hoping for a miracle as well. Just like you. Were you so heartless to turn her away?

"Tansy!" came Ramsay's playful voice, footsteps getting closer and closer as your heart pounded with fear.

"Tansy! Come back here!" it was a woman's voice this time, feminine and melodic. If Ramsay had a female with him, it's safe to presume she is a sociopath, too. 

You were going to protect 'Tansy'. It's settled. She needed help. You needed help. Why not help each other out? 

You were a fool. Only a fool would help an 'already dead' person. You earned yourself a punishment. 

When the arrow struck, you screamed louder than Tansy. It was mostly because of the.sympathy you felt. You definitely don't want to get hit by another arrow. Your shoulder wound throbbed. 

The arrow hit Tansy's leg. Ramsay's expression became stoic. He was disappointed to see you follow him. No doubt Myranda will strike you down again but he'll stop the kill shot. Next thing he knows, she'll grow jealous and distant, she'll demand for your death and this time, he'll have no choice but to concede... Another doll lost.

Ramsay's gaze brightened up. Who was he kidding? He always gets what he wants. You were too interesting to kill. You followed him out of curiosity, stumbled upon the 'rabbit' and claimed to protect her. You should learn a lesson. You must realize the fatal consequence of protecting people who don't need protection.

"Reek, pull her away from dear Tansy, will you?" 

Obedient as trained, Reek moved efficiently, taking you by your unharmed shoulder. You imagined lots of times how it must feel when Theon will lay his hands on you... At this very moment, you wanted to break free of his grasp no matter how gentle.

The fatigue and headache weighed you down so even with skinny arms, Theon effectively held you back as the hounds closed in on Tansy. 

"She thinks she's so pretty...let me cut off her face." Myranda aimed that wretched arrow at Tansy again, spite laced in her voice. It was a shame how such a beautiful woman could be another psychopath. She and Ramsay were a match made in seven hells. 

Ramsay placed a hand on her bow, lowering it while saying, "I have to reward the hounds now... They did all the hard work."

Still immobile, you managed to shout out a threat, "LET HER GO! SHE DID NOTHING WRONG!"

"Why?!" Tansy asked, sobs uncontrollable. She clutched the arrow sticking out of her leg while continuing, "I did whatever you want!"

"But you made Myranda feel jealous," Ramsay pointed out, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Me? Jealous? Of her?" Myranda argued in the background. A part of you wanted her to turn her rage towards Ramsay but your common sense overruled. She wouldn't be here now without a mastermind... This was just a date between two of them...

"My lord, please!" 

"You can see that your presence has become a bit of a problem..."

Warning bells rang inside your head. Ramsay was getting to his verdict. You know his decision before he could utter the words.

"Rip her!" he ordered the demented dogs, "Rip her!"

Tansy screamed and screamed and screamed as the dogs ravished her frail body. Ramsay observed you as you watched, horror-struck.

You couldn't register Theon's shaking hands, Ramsay's gleeful laugh or Myranda's annoying scoff. All you saw was blood, guts and Tansy's mangled body. 

Yes, you could be a replacement for Tansy now; a new doll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7 more to go? How far can you reach? Winter is coming...


	4. Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay is his own warning. Again.

4

There was a strange wailing sound coming from next door. Ignoring it was a difficult task since you were certain a bastard is doing _things_ to various females —9/10, it's usually Myranda who comes out of the room the next morning. 

You managed not to crack for 3 days straight. Hearing obscene noises from the room made you want to sink in the ground and never surface. They don't have shame, it seems. What more could you expect from a bastard?

You were still enraged over the cruel thing he did with Tansy. You wished to lock yourself in your room but that would mean hearing their infuriating moans.

Hell will freeze before you could admit to _wanting_ to hear their sinful sounds. 

On a dreary afternoon, you had the unlucky privilege to encounter said bastard. It was not a pretty encounter. He was half-naked, only in his breeches. There were scratch marks on his torso, product of his ministrations with his lover and he was glistening with sweat. 

As if on instinct, you veered away from him, not wanting to hold his attention for more than a few seconds. "G-Good afternoon, my lord."

Directing a bright smile at you, Ramsay replied, "Afternoon, Rose." 

You weren't about to let this conversation grow longer. Bowing your head, you opted to scurry away before he could find an excuse to make you stay. 

"Now that you're here, I want you to do something for me," he began. Luck wasn't on your side today. It never was. 

"I apologize, my lord," you reasoned out, "but I'm supposed to be helping out in the kitchens—"

"Are you rejecting my orders, Rose? I'm sure you already know I hate disobedient girls. Are you going to ignore my orders and scurry away like a filthy rat?" Eyes flashing with unmatched sadism, Ramsay headed towards your trembling form, backing you up against the cold and rough wall. "If so, might I remind you what we do to rats in Dreadfort?"

Forcing your eyes to meet his icy ones, you said, "You kill them."

"Kill them? Is that it?"

"You...you torture them."

"What kind of torture? I'm sure even a servant girl like you would know the Boltons' tradition of punishing their enemies." He enjoyed the fear you experienced. He liked being intimidating. He liked how you tried to make yourself as small as possible. You were a rat indeed. Maybe he should reconsider renaming you? 

"S-Skinning them, m-my lord?" Your voice was hardly above the whisper. The erie silence, though was enough for the words to reach his ears. You bravely met his eyes again, surprising both yourself and him.

Still, that's what he wanted, right? Confidence but not enough to be called disobedient yet enough to stand your ground. If you let him do as he pleases, you'll get boring very, very quickly. 

"Flaying them," he corrected. Leaning closer to you, Ramsay thrust his face to the side of your ear, whispering with a low voice, "You wouldn't like that to happen to you, right?"

Quickly, you shook your head. He hummed thoughtfully, reaching out with his tongue to lick your earlobe. The gesture made you cringe and slide down from the wall. 

As expected, he grabbed your arm before you could fall into a crouch, assaulting your neck with licks and kisses. He had his eyes closed— a vulnerable position since anyone could stab him and he wouldn't know. 

You pushed against his strength, kicking and slamming both fists and feet against his body. How can he still be so nonchalant about this? He just had intimate moments with other women and now he assaulting you. He could never be sated, is that it? And would you be his play-thing? 

No fucking way. You gasped out, "Please, stop it!" but it came out as a whiny plea. Ramsay retaliated, lips red and plump from being used. 

"If you say please again," he hissed, "it'll be the last word you'll ever say."

A scream tore from your mouth, wishing to attract people _not_ for the purpose of seeing you both like this but to gain sympathy.

However, it was only Theon who came to your aid. From what you've noticed of him these past few days, he was only ever loyal to Ramsay. You were doomed. Ramsay could have whatever he wants, whoever he wants and wherever he wants. 

"Ah, Reek," Ramsay acknowledged him, "come and see what has become of our servant girl."

Reek hesitantly scanned your writhing form. Your teary-eyes, flushed cheeks, wrinkled clothes, and love bites littered on your neck made it seem like you enjoyed every second of it.

"Help me, Theon," you begged, "take me home."

Ramsay clicked his tongue as a warning. "You _are_ home, Rose. Winterfell has always been your home. The Starks cared for you and you served them well. How well, exactly? Should we test that?"

Chills ran down your spine when you uncovered his true intentions. You clawed against the arm holding you upright, leaving angry, red scratches. It was horrible. The scratches acted like his prize for a conquest. 

"Reek?" 

Reek straightened up, audibly gulping. His eyes strayed towards you but he didn't say a word. "Y-Yes, my lord?"

"I want you..." He directed his gaze towards you as he spoke, mischief and chaos glittered in those eyes you've grown to hate, "to kiss Rose."

An almost inhumane sound came from you. It was true; you were infatuated with Theon and was loyal to him more than the Starks. You could even say you loved him. Even when he betrayed the Starks to get his father's approval—you loved him. Always, always, always. 

Just not now. The person facing you isn't Theon Greyjoy, the Starks' Ward, the Ironborn, the last-living son of Balon Greyjoy. This was not the man you fell in love with. 

In Winterfell, under Ramsay's manipulation, Theon was Reek and he'll be Reek until Ramsay dies.

How cruel of the bastard to make your crush kiss you! The tortured soul inside wasn't Theon. You refused to bend to Ramsay's will.

_He always gets what he wants._

"Will you do it, Reek or shall I play with your index finger next?" 

If you stopped Theon from doing what his master wants, it'll be Theon's loss; not yours. You couldn't bear seeing him in pain. Couldn't, wouldn't, can't. 

You loved him. 

"R-Right away, my l-lord," Theon answered shakily, turning to you to convey an _almost_ -apology. 

Taking a deep breath then exhaling, you locked eyes with the man you love, willing yourself to become cold and indifferent. If you gave no reaction, Ramsay wouldn't find a reason to make Theon do this again. 

All your resolve crumbled after Ramsay let go your arm. It was am anchor, actually. An anchor to keep you upright. As much as you hated Ramsay, his warmth actually gave you a bit of confidence to face this challenge. 

Now, you were cold, dead inside as Theon stumbled over to you. "M-My lady, m-may I?"

For years you imagined him calling your name with a playful title. Today, you had a fake title and a fake name. It wasn't just Theon who has been robbed of his identity. You, too are struggling with remembering yours. 

In Winterfell, you had a real name; in Winterfell, you were granted a new name. In Winterfell, you had Theon; in Winterfell, you had Reek. 

In Winterfell, the wolves didn't howl any longer; the flayed man decorated the castle.

Nodding to give your permission, you accepted Theon's calloused touch as you leaned your cheek against his palm. This was how it's gonna be. You and Theon in Ramsay's palm, being played by the flayer—the bastard. 

When Theon pressed his chapped lips to yours, your tears fell like a waterfall on a hot, summer day.


	5. Claws

_5_

You were in the kennels, locked in a cage, cold and shivering after being doused by cold water. You were bruised. Moving your limbs hurt. Your eyes barely stayed open. You were fearful that if you closed them, nightmares after nightmares would never let you wake up. 

You got punished and you barely survived it. You should have expected that. It was after your kiss with Theon— _Reek._

_When Theon kissed you—slow and soft—you didn't respond for the first few seconds, letting him press his lips to an embodiment of stone. Theon pulled away, closing his eyes. "I-It is done, my lord."_

_"Done? I don't think so. Look at her, Reek." Ramsay closed the distance between your bodies, pulling you flush against his chest. "She doesn't look satisfied. Should I always do the work? You're disappointing me, Reek."_

_Somehow the word 'disappointed' didn't settle well with you. Using the last bit of your willpower, you pried yourself free from his arms, trudged to Theon who looked as shocked as Ramsay and leaned forward on your tiptoes to kiss him, roughly than necessary._

_Face burning, you stayed like that for a few moments, eyes halfway closed to indicate enjoyment. It wasn't for your own gain. It was for Theon's. If he got punished because he didn't do it right...guilt will devour your entire being._

_After that, you gritted out, "Don't let him break you, Theon Greyjoy. Fight. Iron doesn't bend. Krakens do not hide. Fight."_

_Ramsay heard every syllable. He wasn't furious but he was obviously amused. "You're getting predictable, Rose. I admire your loyalty to Theon but Theon's not here. There is only Reek. You're trying to take my Reek away? Consider yourself dead."_

_It was hard to accept but you nodded solemnly. "I accept whatever fate befalls me, my lord. I am not Rose. I am (Name) and I serve the Starks." You didn't like being manipulated. If he could hurt Theon then he could certainly hurt you, too. Pain might be scary but at least you did one right thing. "Winter is coming. I-I advise you to wait inside the castle walls because the flayed men will rot and wither."_

_The next thing you knew, you were being doused with cold water, left in the snow for a few minutes, and punched several times by Bolton soldiers._

_Only then were you allowed to rest in your new room._

__

Just thinking about the way they treated you like a dog was humiliating enough. It was shameful. The Starks were wolves, not _you._

You weren't angry. You were just ashamed. You were grateful he didn't do anything to Theon. Even if he was living in the cage next to yours, he was being summoned. You were alright. You're going to be alright. Even if you won't make it through the night, you have no regrets. At least you spent the last hours of your life insulting Ramsay's pride and standing your ground. 

The rustling of hay made you open your eyes wider—it was still halfway open, actually. 

A dead rat was pushed towards you by a thin arm. You glanced up to see Theon, prodding at the rat with his bare fingers. What was he doing?

Confused, you mouthed, "What?"

"T-To e-eat, my lady," he squeaked, "you won't survive until tomorrow if you starve."

"They...they pl-plan on starving m-m-me, Reek," you gently accused, "Th-there is nothing left for me."

"You've s-started calling me Reek, my lady?"

"That's what you w-wanted, right?" you admitted, "because Theon Greyjoy, the man I admired for years is dead even if he was ironborn and what is dead may never die but he did and he left me alone."

He couldn't answer—couldn't even retort. You may be right after all with your choice of words. Theon is gone. There is only Reek. Reek is not who you needed to be taking care of you. 

Eyes brightened by the assault of tears, you frustrations overflowed. Sometimes you wished you were a noble like the Starks. Sometimes you wished you followed Robb or became Sansa's handmaiden instead of following your heart. Sometimes you wished the Boltons shot you with an arrow.l to the heart to end your suffering so you won't be able to see Theon turn into an unrecognizable man. 

You disliked your emotions at the moment. Truth was, you didn't want to say any of those harsh words to Reek. He didn't deserve torture. He didn't deserve another harsh treatment from you—his only confidant. He even broke the rules by giving you food to eat so you won't starve. How could you be so cruel?

Your mouth opened before you could replay the words inside your head: "I want to go home, Theon."

How foolish. Like Ramsay said, you are home. 

Automatically, your hands clutched both sides of your arms, holding yourself together. You couldn't do this. Starvation was inhumane. Isolation was horrible. You wanted to return to how things were. It was your feelings for Theon that led you to this. 

Maybe you should have taken the Septa's advice: "Don't follow your heart." The consequences of dismissing that life-saving advice finally reached you and you couldn't retaliate.

"I-I'm here, my lady," was all Theon could muster and honestly—even if you were somewhat harsh, he still had the decency to comfort you—you were relieved. 

"Th-Thank you."

But then the door slammed open and a female walked in, carrying a throwing axe, splatters of blood visible on her body and face. "Theon!"

You gasped. Were you finally saved? It was Yara Greyjoy, Theon's sister!

You couldn't help letting out a sigh. Yara stalked towards Theon's cage, quickly opening it forcefully. She addressed Theon, "Come on! Let's go home!"

However, Theon's words froze your blood to ice. "Not Theon! Reek! My name is Reek! I'm Reek!"

Ramsay still had his claws on him.


	6. (Un)Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First smut on the way. Ramsay is his own warning.

6

Theon bit you. He bit you like a rabid animal all while shrieking, "I'm not Theon. I'm Reek! Reek! My name is Reek!"

"You are Theon Greyjoy!" Yara insisted, pushing you aside to tend to his brother. 

Theon was stubborn. It wasn't entirely his fault; he was stubborn before he became Reek. That stubbornness caused problems. 

"Theon, let her take you home! Please!" Your voice cracked at the end, hoping he'll see reason. It was alright if you were left here because you really didn't have a home anymore. You had no one to follow. Theon wouldn't stay with you even if he was back to normal. You were born to be isolated.

"No! You can't trick me! I'm Reek!" 

Despite the throbbing pain in your hand caused by Theon's bite, you tried assisting Yara again only to pause in fear upon hearing footsteps coming from the door and the deafening silence. 

"This is turning into a lovely evening," Ramsay mused, canines flashing and dangerous eyes scanning all your reactions. His eyes lingered on your battered form, longer than necessary. 

Without missing a beat, the bastard began the assault on Yara's soldiers, slashing and stabbing with expertise. You knew you only had a few seconds.

"No, no! I'm Reek! Reek!" Theon kept on insisting, jerking free of the soldiers holding him in place. Ramsay just killed a second person, inching closer and closer to you guys. 

You were reminded of the anger you felt towards him. Anger for the torture, anger for kissing you, anger for breaking Theon... A moment later, you picked up a spear from a fallen soldier.

Not knowing what to do or how to use it, you pointed it at your enemies, hands shaking. This was for Theon, this was for the prince—

Yara took advantage of the spear, pushing another Bolton soldier against the pointy end and down he went. Even if you weren't the reason for his death, you felt his blood splash against your hands. 

Yara grabbed Theon by his clothes but Theon only bit her hand, hard. Letting out a cry, Yara was forced to retreat whilst Theon ran in the protection of his master's back, hiding inside the cages. 

"Give me my brother," Yara proposed, "and no more of your men will die."

"You got bigger balls than he ever did," Ramsay stated, "but with those...big balls of yours..." He sheathed his flaying knives, slowly, as if taunting you to strike. 

Instinct kicked in and you threw the spear at him to which he easily avoided. "Relishing in the moment, Rose?"

"Let Theon go." You weren't sure if it was a threat or plea. Probably the latter. You don't have the nerves to threaten him.

He looked at Yara, tilting his head suggestively as he casually walked towards the cage where his man-eating dogs resided. "How fast can you run?"

For a split second, you opted running away with them but it was clear that they were leaving Theon. Your eyes searched for a weapon as Ramsay fiddled with the lock. You could catch him unguarded. But as you watched him closely, you noticed he wasn't fully focused on the lock...he was watching you from the corner of his eyes. 

Ramsay is lethal. He's a monster. A sane person would run away. You won't. You've seen a man get tortured because you didn't give in, you watched a woman get hunted like an animal and get ravaged by a dog, you watched the Ramsay's affairs, you almost got raped, too for goodness' sake! 

You may not be thoroughly insane but if Yara was planning on leaving Theon, you'll stay. 

When the lock clicked open, Yara tensed up before turning tail and running away, the living soldiers followed closely. You noticed Ramsay didn't order the dogs to chase them. He just opened the cages and the dogs stared at him obediently. He was playing with their minds. He wanted them to fear him. 

"I'd have thought you'll go with them,"Ramsay noted, "you seem eager to leave and bring Reek. You've disobeyed me once...you've done it again."

Why did you avert your eyes as if guilty? You weren't. You were glad to have disobeyed him. 

"Aren't you going to say anything to defend yourself?"

"I...I'll accept any punishment as...as long as it's not death." I should be proud. I may have hesitantly voiced out my thoughts but I didn't stutter. 

"Can I take a finger or two?" It was scary how easily he asked such a vile thing. Ramsay is a total sociopath. He scared you but you weren't backing down. There's nothing for you anymore but Theon and from what you saw, Ramsay won't be killing him for a _long_ time. Until then, you'll be there for Theon whenever he needed you.

"Nevermind," he cancelled out his decision, "I want to take a lot more than your fingers."

You flinched, afraid. The dirt on your feet became interesting as you watched it. 

"No!" Ramsay drawled out "Not a body part. I'm taking a part of your soul."

How? How would he do that? Will he make you commit a crime? Will he rape you? Once more, you were teary-eyed. 

"But first...you reek." He beamed, proud of his joke. "Even Reek smells a lot better and that's saying a lot because of his name." He laughed. 

"You need a bath."

You pressed your lips together, relieved but fearful. "I understand, my lord."

"Reek will lead you upstairs. Go and follow him." Smiling, he dismissed you to tend to his dogs. You wished he'd get eaten by them. 

Theon was smart to avoid touching you. You doubted you could ever erase the feeling of his rough hands against your skin. You trailed after Theon's limping form, albeit rather slowly. Why would Ramsay want you to bath? Did he plan on manipulating you further by luring you into a false sense of security?

At the very least, you were grateful he wouldn't strike while you were basked in privacy.

Little did you know, the horrors would arrive sooner than later.

~

The water dripped against the ground as you plunged in, all in your naked glory. You had sent Theon away and he easily obliged. For a second, you were paranoid he'd watch under Ramsay's orders. Luckily, he didn't. For good measure, you barricaded the door with a chair

The thought of Theon's intense gaze boring into yours while you scrubbed yourself made you choke back bile from pouring out. What were you thinking? You were in love with Theon. You certainly don't love him as much now. You couldn't blame him for that.

The lingering feelings still stayed.

Sighing, you sank down under the water, relishing the feeling of its warmth seeping into your soul, soothing you like a mother's touch. 

You never knew your mother. She was probably responsible for selling you to become a servant. It was miracle you weren't touched by any man while you were a child. You are a miracle. That's why she chose a special name for you.

But then Ramsay had to take that away, too. 

You raised your head above the surface, saying your own name. An insult to the bastard himself. 

You soaked your head under again, holding your breath, happy that the warmth of the water kept you company. It was different from when you were in the cages. 

You repeated your actions for the second time and was about to start the third when an icy hand shot out from above, brushing against your scalp as it hoisted you up by the hair, into the chilly, wintery air.

"What a lovely sight," Ramsay said, bearing a wolf's grin. "I might get used to this."

When you glanced at his naked torso, you couldn't fathom how he got in. You were certain the doors were barricaded and if he moved the chair surreptitiously, you would have heard. Then again, you were too entranced in your own world to notice his presence.

Your hands automatically covered your breasts, a blush staining your cheeks. Words failed you. The rhythm of your heart was mismatched. You could only see the dreadful bastard's face.

"Oh, no," he muttered, "I'll have none of that shyness." He shook his head slightly and added, "I need the she-wolf who kissed my Reek to save him from punishment."

"I'm not a wolf," you protested, "I'm boring, yes? If so, you wouldn't need to...to involve yourself with a w-woman such as myself." A thought clicked so you continued with, "...my lord."

Heartless chuckle erupted from him. "I'd be happy to see you get fed to my dogs but judging from your loyalty to an already-dead Theon Greyjoy, I'd say that will not be enough to break you." He skimmed his unbelievably soft hands against your neck, leaving goosebumps. The chilly air didn't aid you. It only worsened the feeling. "So, I came to an easy conclusion."

"Don't—"

"I'm going to take you and when I do, you won't be able to remember Theon's name." His voice turned feral, like a growl. Ramsay increased the pressure of his grip, the strands of your hair tangled in his fingers. You gasped, immediately bringing your hands up to decrease the pain. He didn't cease. "When I'm done, you'll fall for the only person who can give you a worthy human contact. You'll beg for me, beg for pleasure, for release and before you know it, you'll become a whore. Such a fitting position for the last remaining Stark maid."

"H-Human contact, y-you say?" A sickening headache caused you to stutter a lot more. "You're not a human, my lord. You're a... You're a _monster_ in a human's skin." 

Maybe defiance would make him change his mind.

"You're right, Rose." Ramsay addressed you by that fake name again. Suddenly, you remembered why you lost track of your surroundings because you wanted to remind yourself of you really are. "I am a monster. I've always been that way. It's your turn to experience how monstrous I can be."

Soft lips crashed against yours, tongue immediately darting out to trace your lower lip. Ramsay still held you by your hair, kissing you until you turned light-headed. 

Upon pulling away for a few seconds, he started again; his wandering hand found the underside of your breasts, thumb rubbing against your nipple, creating friction you never thought was supposed to be pleasurable. 

Involuntarily, you let out a soft moan. He took notice so he whispered in your ear, "Hear that, Rose? It's a start."

Even if you wanted to swat his hand away, you couldn't. Both your hands were trying to stop his hand from ripping your hair off your scalp. If you let go, you'll be a bald person by morning. 

Ramsay peppered you with kisses until he reached your neck. There, he bit harshly, red blooming on the spot where his teeth sunk against flesh. That particular ministration caused you to whimper. "You can't cover this up. I want Reek to see you parading my claim."

He bit you again at various spots on your neck, leaving love bites which would not be erased easily. You elicited a sob—with Ramsay's reputation, he wouldn't be sorry for you. Not ever. 

As his hand massaged your left breast, warmth spread inside your stomach, like a knot tightening. You heard the stories of grown women. You heard how it hurts the first time when men penetrated them down there. But you also heard how pleasurable it was. You weren't comforted by pleasure. Ramsay was famous for his sadistic nature and if anything, he'll make you beg before giving you your sweet release.

It seems like he couldn't get enough of you either. With grace, he entered the tub, soaking his trousers in the process but apparently delighted with the new position. Only then did he finally let go of your hair. 

"Stand up, Rose," he ordered softly, tone belonging to what a husband would sound like to his beloved wife. 

You shook your head, unyielding. He can't humiliate you any further.

"This isn't the time for insubordination, Rose. You have to do exactly as I tell you or risk Reek losing another finger again. He's just outside the door, you know. He's listening. I told him to."

Dread turned your heart to stone. So, Theon heard your sighs and moans from the outside? Did he think you were lying when you said you disliked Ramsay? You sound like you were. After all, what woman would ever moan when assaulted by a man she loathed? 

You realized you were a monster, too, deep inside.

"You're running out of time, Rose." leaned against the other side of the tub, lean arms resting on the metal edges. Ramsay nodded once, an assurance; he's watching.

Standing up with wobbly feet was exceedingly difficult. You could slip or hit your head against the concrete and die. Or you could be shamed once more. There's only one option left: stand strong and proud. You knew how the Starks' customs go. You weren't going down with a bowed head.

"There's that shining vanity belonging to a Stark maid." Ramsay smiled. "Touch yourself. Come apart with my voice. You'll learn to love it, believe me."

Your hand shook as you brought it near your cunt. Face set aflame, you wished he wasn't staring at you so intensely. "D-Do...I h-have to? You'll...you said you'll b-b-be the one to—"

"To what?"

You kept your lips sealed shut. There was no way you're going to say such obscene words. You may not be a proper lady but you knew etiquette from having grown up with Sansa as a servant. 

"Do it, Rose. You know the consequences, of course."

Theon's pained face flashed inside your mind. He was right; you can't let Theon suffer any longer.

Standing up straighter, you pried open the lips of your cunt, pushing a finger inside slightly, feeling the wetness of the water and excess juices. Your breath hitched. It was the third time you've tried this. 

The first time happened when you were a lot younger, overcome by curiosity—you didn't continue. 

The second time was more on finding relief. You had seen Theon with his favourite whore one day so you wanted to ease your jealousy, pretending the hands halfway buried in your cunt was Theon's. But you didn't continue that one either. 

This time's different and horribly unsettling. You never tried this before. How much further should you push in? Knuckle-deep? Was this enough? Will he be satisfied? What about Theon? What will Theon think if he saw you doing...?

"Your innocence is astonishing. Bravo!" Ramsay sarcastically clapped, genuine delectation viewable. "Has no one really taught you these things? Were you hidden under a rock all these years? Who did you take after? Arya? No, I don't think so—too young. Maybe Sansa, the older one?"

You felt your fingers twitch. 

"Ah, Sansa." Ramsay hit a nerve. Of course, you took after Sansa. She was the only one you talked to a lot out of all the Starks. Although you and Arya were like two peas in a pod, you followed Sansa's example. You became a worthy maid for her. She knew about your affection for Theon. 

"Sweet, little, Sansa," Ramsay continued his monologue, watching you with soulless eyes, "I suppose she's not so little now. And did you hear? She's coming over for a visit according to my father."

Blood running cold, you closed your eyes, preventing a tear from escaping. Sansa can't endure the mental torture you've gone through. She just can't. As one of the people you actually cared about, having her broken will shatter you to shards.

"What's with the change of expression?" Ramsay inquired, noticing your lack of movement and reaction. He leaned forward, the water splashing against his milky-white skin. "Are you afraid of what I'm going to do to her? Or are you jealous of what's to come?"

You? Jealous? No fucking way. You opened your eyes again. "Let me get this o-over with."

"Sure, sure," he ushered you, "But I doubt you know what you're doing. You look absolutely confused. This innocence radiating off you... I can't wait to strip it off and fuck you deeply until every last shred of innocence leaves that body of yours. Who knows? Maybe the gods will bless us with an offspring?"

He stood up at last, trickles of water running down his abdomen, disappearing under his lower clothing. He faced you, searching for a valuable reaction. What he saw in your eyes led him to persist. 

"Push it in, inch by inch." He grasped your wrist, carefully assisting you through the forced masturbation. You shuddered, a little scared. The feeling was new. He stopped guiding you when your fingers reached knuckle-deep. "Now, pull it out."

You did as told, having no choice. It was either this or Theon's fingers saying goodbye. Clearly you couldn't choose the latter. Things people do for love were out of limits.

When you pulled your fingers out, it was coated with your juices. You hated to admit you were interested in how you tasted like. Maybe it wasn't interest. Maybe it was just...

"Do exactly what I told you to do and don't stop until I tell you so." 

Ramsay was half-right. You did follow his voice. It was now a constant within you. You couldn't get through this ordeal without him. Then again, it was his doing in the first place. If he kept instructing you, you can treat it like a test. A very private test.

Pushing in and pulling out got easier by the second. Accompanied by the wetness of your cunt, your fingers now slid in and out easily. The familiar tightening knot occured again—you paused. 

"Wh-What was that?" Sometimes, you thought you were stupid. You didn't even know the basics of how sex works. 

"What was what?"

"That." You figured elaborating the feeling might led him to understand. "There's a... There's warmth inside my stomach. What's that?"

Ramsay smiled, inching his face closer to speak in your ear. "That means you have to keep going." He kissed you, then, softly. 

His own hands guided yours away from your cunt and you lamented in the loss of friction. When he pulled away from you, he placed the digits of your hand inside his mouth, licking and tasting you. The warmth of his mouth was astonishing. It was weird, wanting to see more of him groaning in approval. You didn't let your eyes stray but you were certain the wetness down there built up. You could be dripping into the water now, for god's sake!

"Let me finish up my first course." Without saying so, he used his hand to pull out a...flaying knife...?!

Where did that come from? Didn't he use that to k-kill Greyjoy soldiers? Does that mean you were too focused on yourself that you didn't notice he was carrying a weapon? You tensed, squirming at the sight of the sharp blade. He wasn't going to...

"Relax, Rose," he assured you, "I won't hurt you so much that you'll fail to bring me a child."

With little effort, he carefully slid the handle of the blade into your cunt. "Take it like the faithful servant you are."

And you did. The hilt of the knife was already lubricated so it easily slid inside, bumping against your walls. What a weird feeling. It sent pleasant tingles into your stomach, your knees quivered, too. Let's not forget the danger Ramsay possessed—he could effortlessly turn the knife around and fuck you with the pointy end.

His hand got to work, pushing in and pulling out. You couldn't stop him. You wouldn't. Maybe it was selfish or maybe it was the other way around. If Ramsay doesn't get what he wants, Theon suffers.

You have a chance at stopping that now that you knew Winterfell wasn't impenetrable. Yara can sneak in so maybe you could gather people who are loyal to the North and—

Ramsay grunted, thrusting in a little rougher. Your breath hitched. You were distracted. You can't think clearly when he is blade-fucking you. 

Who were you to be believed in? Why would the North save Theon Greyjoy, the man who betrayed Robb Stark? Wouldn't they say he deserved it? How are you going to make them rally against the Boltons for Theon's sake? You were no Queen; you were just...

His pace sped up and so did the beating of your heart. He was relentless, pounding into to you with such a crude weapon. You should be ashamed but the pleasure built up and the knot tightened until it broke and the dam spilled.

Ramsay chuckled, "Good for you."

Having come down from your high, you lazily looked at him, surprised but secretly pleased that he let you reach your peak. That doesn't tune out the disgust you felt. You reminded yourself this was for Theon; not for your own gain.

When Ramsay kissed you, a fire was lit inside your body, empowering your resolve. You shouldn't be liking this at all. This was madness. This was how Ramsay usually made his lovers lose all kind of thinking capabilities.

You sure as hell weren't turning into a slut.

"You've got what you wanted," you hissed, eyes watering. He was right. He was always right. Your body would betray you and you would succumb. 

However, you weren't boring or dull like Tansy and all the other girls before. You will not fall in love with him. 

"I did."

"Now, let me go."

"And why, pray tell, would I do that? I'm having so much fun." He gripped the back of your head, repeating his harsh actions moments ago. Ramsay brought your face closer to his. "Kneel for your lord."

You were adamant in your beliefs. "You are _not_ my lord. You promised you won't hurt Theon if I complied! I did! Now, let me go. Please."

"You shouldn't have said the last part or I would have reconsidered." He lifted the knife dramatically, the hilt still coated in slick. "I should let Reek watch as you scream my name and come undone."

You slapped him. Hard; but it wasn't enough. Ramsay was horribly enticed and the hardening of his cock against his trousers was the proof of that. 

"Bold of you, Rose. You could rival Myranda." He grinned. "I doubt you could survive after being called a rival, though. In her eyes, you're just an average woman to hunt. How long will you last in the woods?"

"You're—" You huffed, punding against his scarred chest— "a monster!"

"I am aware." Then, with a cunning and commanding voice, he called out to the one person you wanted to avoid seeing in such a disheveled state. You blanched, heart breaking into a thousand pieces. 

"Come, Reek," Ramsay taunted, "come and see."

Slowly, the door creaked open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 more to go.


End file.
